Journal of the Unknown Prisoner

Reads 404
Votes 29
Parts 21
Time 20m

Reads 404
Votes 29
Parts 21
Time 20m

A leather-bound book was recovered from the ruins of an abandoned prison. The author of this document remains unknown, but his experiences and memories are recorded in his journal...All Rights Reserved

journal penitentiary

21 parts

#26penitentiary

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UNDERNEATH THE D "A"Y by cibernautacalavera

A MANUSCRIPT WAS FOUND ON THE SLUM STREETS OF THE CITY. IN IT (NARRATED IN A BOLD AND PRIMITIVE WAY ) LIES THE STORY OF A STREET ARTIST WHOSE GIRLFRIEND DISAPPEARED, HIS DESPERATE ATEMPT TO GET HER BACK AND THE SPIRITUAL TEACHINGS HE LEARNS ON THE URBAN QUEST.

I look at the many graves around me-too many graves, too many casualties to this world. People I couldn't save, losses I'd give anything to not have to carry. Staring at the open grave before me, I recite, "Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other kingdom, remember us-if at all-not as lost, violent souls, but only as the hollow men."

Tombs of the Broken Minds by PollutionQThrashbarg

"Prologue: In the quiet corners of existence, knowledge whispered to the fractured minds. In a world not unlike our own, there was a secret known by only a few. Hidden in the shadows and whispered through the wind, it was the knowledge of books with powers beyond imagination. These tomes, bound in leather and inked with the blood of their creator, held within them the fabric of the universe itself. They were the vessels of the arcane, the echoes of the forgotten, and the keys to the locked doors of reality...."

The Black Wolf: Keith x Male!reader by Ace_of_Stories

Have you ever looked up into the night sky and tried to imagine what it be like out? Well what ever you're thinking is probably far from the truth. I grew up out there, fighting a war since I could walk. Now, after crash landing on Earth, meeting the other half of my family and making new friends, I may just have to return to the fight.

❝ Is someone back there? ❞ ❝ Yes.❞ ❝ Are you going to hurt me? ❞ ❝ No.❞ #442 in Short Story, #234 in Short Story 1/15, #418 in Short Story 1/31, #228 in Short Story 2/1, #186 in Short Story 2/4, #143 in Short Story 5/5, #76 in Short Story 5/6, #28 in Short Story 5/24, #45 in Short Story 5/25

What if nobody knew your name, what if you were left to rot as a pup. Just abandoned on the side of a road. You used to be so innocent and sweet, then people started giving you the cold shoulder. You got more gruesome over the years and walked on people's corpses after killing them. What if you were me? ~

I once got a phone call from the guy I sold my truck to. He told me I had left a notebook under the passenger seat in my car, and later dropped it off at my house. While I have had blackout drunk nights, the notebook remains a mystery as to how it got there, or who wrote it. It's poorly written on blank pieces of paper that are held together by two clips. Some of the pages have grease stains on them, and others are bent, but it is none the less a treasure. In it's worn pages are the pure unaltered thoughts of a tormented stranger, hunting something supernatural he called Ganama. I don't know where this man is, how he's doing, or even his name to be honest. What I do know is this man lived a life of adventure, hardship, ultimatums, and terror. I share his story with you not so you can find him if he's alive, but so you can learn about who he is, and maybe even feel like you and him could have been friends.

One moment you're free and loving life, not caring to think what you might be doing to hurt someone else or something else. The next, your whole world turns upside down and you question everything you ever did. The war began and yes, of course it's not my fault. People are just dumb, but what happens when you realize it might just be your fault, not the war, but the events afterwards. What will become of us if we don't change our ways ? Read to find out!! Fused to make the cover picture.

Waking up cold and broken, in a world that I don't recognize is dangerous enough but to try and figure out who you are -who you were- in the middle of a war could mean that death is just around the corner. With only the words written in an old leather-bound journal and the help from a few friends, I pray that I might one day remember all that was taken from me before it's too late.

It started when the rain fell. As it hit the windows rhythmically, I fought my sleep. Fighting off the demons in my dreams. I hadn't realized how real that dream became. Waking up to terrified screaming. My heart racing, the lighting striking and my family begging for their lives. I claimed myself as a coward that very same night. I hated myself. My depression became the best of me. What's worst then your family being slaughtered? Hiding in the closet from the killers. I should've helped, I should've been there for them. The pain between my chest and stomach was growing guilt. So I started thinking smart. Looking at everyone differently. I decided to reopen their cold cases. And when I found the truth it hit me deep.

UNDERNEATH THE D "A"Y

A MANUSCRIPT WAS FOUND ON THE SLUM STREETS OF THE CITY. IN IT (NARRATED IN A BOLD AND PRIMITIVE WAY ) LIES THE STORY OF A STREET ARTIST WHOSE GIRLFRIEND DISAPPEARED, HIS DESPERATE ATEMPT TO GET HER BACK AND THE SPIRITUAL TEACHINGS HE LEARNS ON THE URBAN QUEST.

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